Of Cake and Roman Candles
by PolkaDottd
Summary: England is civil and cheerful at America's 233rd birthday. It seems like he has finally come to terms with the Revolutionary War centuries ago. So why does that make America upset? USxUK, rated T for language. Ignore the lame title.
1. Chapter 1

My first complete fanfiction ever, so please be gentle. xD Just a bunch of fluffy USxUK, written for 4th of July. I tried really hard to avoid what I thought were cliches, but this was written at 4:00 in the morning after I had stayed up all night. ^^" I would've added more things in, but I really wanted to post it today. I had a fun time writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it as well.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya. -wistful sigh-

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America was bothered by England.

America was bothered by England because England _wasn'_t bothered.

First off, England had agreed to come to his birthday party. Not reluctantly showed up on the doorstep when everyone was leaving, or claiming to have been forced by Canada or France with said person dragging him along as proof. He RSVP'd over the phone, and there was no tension or cracking in his voice. Actually, the following conversation had been pleasant, and England said he hoped this birthday party would be as great as Canada's own (which was a given, since America's parties were _always_ better than his brother's. He made sure of that). And he did come. A few minutes early, in fact. He knew that England loved to be punctual, but that didn't usually apply to America's birthday. Even more surprising, England showed up beaming and handed him a gift with modest blue wrapping paper and a white and red ribbon bow, in honor of the occasion. There was no anger, no sarcasm, no sadness or any emotion besides what seemed like (very, very, almost creepily uncharacteristic) gleefulness at seeing his former colony all grown up.

America had thought it was a ruse. Since England was early, he asked if he could help him put up the final decorations. He was sure he was going to get a reaction, at least a twitch and a scolding about his house already being way too gaudy. England agreed to without complaint. America was immediately wary. To further test him, he asked England help him pin up the American flag in his house's living room where most of the party would be taking place. The task was completed easily, and England didn't let it touch the ground once. America wondered if he should ask him to help him put up his colonial flag as well, but he had to greet the other guests as they began to show up and the matter was forgotten.

He had everyone sing the national anthem before they cut the 50-tier, 233 candle-decorated cake as usual, except he made sure England was right next to him and that he sang the lyrics extra-loud. When England seemed to sing words without a single indication of discomfort, America had everyone sing it again. And again. Just to see England's reaction. England sang it each time, only showing a little bit of weariness at having to repeat it. The cake tasted so amazing that even France praised it, and the hamburgers served afterwards were all grilled and seasoned to perfection. The great food, however, did little to ease the unsettling feeling in America's stomach. It was like someone actually civil had switched bodies with England and came to the party. England was supposed to be a blowtop! All this tolerance wasn't normal. America was determined to expose England's façade, but it was beginning to seem like he honestly didn't mind the blatant reminders of the Revolutionary War. Geez, was he going to have to bring out Tony before England would get annoyed?

At the gift-opening, America was sure he had it all figured out. England had pretended to be nice to him this whole time so he would be unsuspecting when he opened his gift and pow! A glove boxed him right in the face, or worse! Maybe a cursed stuffed animal (America had caught England in the act of performing black magic and knew what he was capable of) that would look innocent enough until he picked it up and it strangled him to death. America was prepared, though. He saved England's present for last. He acted as if he wasn't in on England's scheme by innocently taking time to admire the way the ribbon was expertly tied and how the wrapping was crisp and tight around the corners. England just nodded, and there wasn't even the "Just open it already, you bloody git!" he had been expecting. At Switzerland's threats to hurry up or be shot in the goddamn foot, America finally peeled back a corner of the gift. In a great flourish, he ripped off all of the wrapping paper and was left with a white box. England urged him on when he hesitated to take off the tape holding it closed. America's fingers shook as he pulled it open.

Before he could even see what was inside, he flung the box on the ground and jumped up into a defensive stance. Everyone stared as a handmade stuffed rabbit with the pattern of the American flag and white button eyes tumbled out of the box. America didn't move a muscle. France asked aloud if America had lost his mind, and Japan reached out to pick it up. America screamed at him to stop. Confused expressions watched as America hesitantly stuck out his foot and tapped the stuffed animal. It did nothing besides roll onto it's side. Other countries started murmuring, and America caught "Americans are so stupid, aru," "He's almost as weird as that potato-bastard," and "France, please stop trying to undress me." He flushed and swiped the harmless plushie up, grumbling an insincere thanks to England.

He made America look like the crazy one. Him! He wasn't the one who claimed to see unicorns and fairies and what-not!

For some reason, America was finding it hard to have fun at his party. The gifts were great (except Russia's male enhancement package and one-way ticket to Siberia), yet something was still annoying him. He tried to enjoy himself by talking to the other guests and cracking jokes.

It soon became time for the fireworks to start. Sealand and Latvia had already gotten ahold of some sparklers and were running out to the street. Hungary was simultaneously clinging to Austria and slamming Prussia in the face with her frying pan. Iceland was letting his penguin interact with Kumajirou as Canada nearly fainted from the cuteness-overload. Poland was telling some 'like' and 'totally'-filled story to Lithuania, and South Korea was claiming to Japan and China that he had invented gunpowder. Sweden had his arm wrapped around Finland, who embarrassedly declared something about wives to Denmark and Norway. Hong Kong was about to light up a line of firecrackers right behind an unsuspecting England. England. The beginning of the fireworks display was when England was always sure to be gone. Dammit, why was he still here? Then again, it wasn't that America didn't want him there. The more, the merrier. What made him mad was that.. Well.. England wasn't being his insulting, grumpy, whine-about-how-ungrateful-America-is self. Wait. God, he wasn't even making sense to himself anymore. That was supposed to be a _good_ thing. Why _was_ he so upset?

America grabbed England's arm and yanked him away in the middle of scolding Hong Kong and testing the hearing in his left ear. He brought him around the corner of his house where they would be hidden from the view of the other countries. He didn't want them all thinking he was any more crazy than they already believed.

America pinned England's shoulder against the wall and gave him as intimidating a glare as he could manage. Undaunted, England raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?"

"What am _I_ doing? What are you doing!" America raised one hand up in the air to express his exasperation. "You've been acting.. Weird.. All day! What's up with that?"

"I honestly haven't a clue as to what you're talking about."

America growled in frustration. "The.. Showing up early.. And the, not grumbling, and.. And, the real, honest-to-goodness gift, and.. And all that cheeriness!"

There was a silence. England seemed to be waiting for an explanation, but America glared at him expectantly.

"What you're trying to say is," England began slowly, "you're upset because I'm.. Not upset? Or yelling and calling you a moron?"

"Exactly!"

"... America, did you leave your drink unattended? I told you France might slip something odd into it."

America turned around sharply and sighed. He scratched the back of his head and shoved his other hand into his pocket. "I want you to.. Be, well, affected."

"Be affected? What does that even m-"

America shut his eyes and let the words tumble out. "How come you're all, y'know, you're acting like you aren't upset, even though it's been plenty of years after the war, but last year you said you really hated this day and now you act like you do at anyone else's birthday, all nice and congratulatory. And you used to get so worked up, and you told me memories of me being a kid were always on your mind weeks before my birthday, and I guess I just feel.."

He bit his lip. "I dunno, that our.. Relationship," he winced at having to use that word, "changed. That you are finally okay with me separating from you. When it used to be, y'know, not okay. You being mad reminds me that you really cared for me and stuff, and I guess it kinda made me glad to see that celebrating the day I became independent bothered you." America turned slightly to the side and saw England's expression torn between being surprised and regretful. He didn't like that look.

He forced himself to continue. "And I want you to feel upset because the whole thing still makes _me_ a little upset, even if I don't show it like you do, and I don't want to be the only one who feels like that. Left behind. I don't want you to move on and act like what happened didn't happen, and that there's nothing special about our," that odd word again, "relationship. And I guess I'm being selfish, but I kind of like knowing that you're thinking about, ah, well, don't make me say it. I want you to have a different relationship with me, that only we have. Or," America swallowed, "something like that."

America felt his face heat up. He could see England's mouth hanging open out of the corner of his eye. The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, and with each growing minute, America felt more embarrassed. He wanted to run away like a schoolgirl who had just confessed, but England suddenly clung to the edge of his jacket. England became engrossed with staring at the ground.

"Well, erm. Dammit. Don't go thinking that I'm not affected." England tried to look haughty, but America could see the light blush on his cheeks. "It's taken all my energy not to box you on the ear for being an ungrateful wanker. I thought you'd enjoy the fact that I was acting polite at your party- not that I was doing it solely for your sake!" he added quickly. America's embarrassment started to ebb away.

"Uhm, well, that is to say. I've told myself repeatedly that I don't care anymore, but.. It, it really does still bother me." England bunched up his shoulder. "I decided I should just belt up, though. I realized it's been over two hundred years, and I was still obsessing over it. I was trying to forget about it all. It was also because I did not want to be left behind."

His face was now entirely red. "It seemed like I was the only one stuck in the past, so I did my best to act with you like I do with everyone else. It was," England stumbled over his words, "it was really difficult. I suppose neither of us are ready to forgive and forget."

England trailed off. The atmosphere felt heavy and melancholy to him, but he noticed with shock that America was now grinning from ear to ear. England glared up at him underneath his bangs.

"W-why are you smiling like that, you idiot?"

America laughed and eagerly ruffled England's hair. "So nothing really has changed! I'm so relieved." He stretched his arms and arched his back like a cat. "I thought you were broken, or maybe Tony had abducted you and sent back an improved replacement." England huffed.

"So you noticed I was straining all along? I couldn't believe you asked me to help you put up your flag. At first I thought you were honestly asking for assistance, but now I know you were _trying_ to be insensitive." England's tone grew more light-hearted. "Being forced to sing your damn national anthem three times made me want to slam your face into that ridiculously extravagant cake, I hope you know."

America burst out laughing and slapped a palm onto his forehead. "Sorry," he said between chuckles, "I was trying to get a rise outta you. You're a really good actor."

"Trust me, I was pissed." England was smiling now. "It was hard to not to smash that stereo."

They stood there, grinning like idiots. When they looked at each other, they both couldn't help but crack up when they realized how stubborn they had been. They laughed even harder when they heard the other laugh for no apparent reason, and before they knew it they were rolling on the ground, gripping their sides. America smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, and England's eyes held a wild gleam. They made themselves stop once it became hard to breathe. As their laughter was forced down, England leaned against the side of the house and wiped away a tear.

"I think that's the first time I've ever laughed on Fourth of July," England chuckled. He kept hiccuping short bursts of giggles. America kneeled in front of him with a feral grin.

"See? My birthday parties aren't so bad," America replied cheerily. Just as the words left his mouth, a resounding boom made them look up. Red, white, and blue sparks bloomed like a chrysanthemum in the evening sky. 'Oooh's and 'aah's could be heard from the street where all the other countries were. They breathlessly watched the display from the ground, laughter completely subsided. America glanced at England. Specks of gold and white were being reflected in his eyes. His smile, gentler than the one moments ago, held sincere amazement and nostalgia.

"Do you like it?" America asked, whispering inexplicably until he realized he might not be heard over the crackling.

"Just the right amount of bang. Not flashy enough to be an eyesore. Very well done," England answered fondly. He returned America's gaze. They became aware of how close they were, but neither moved to remedy it. America's heart pounded in his ears, and he felt unexpectedly exhilarated. England watched as America slowly but deliberately began to close the short amount of distance between them. Both of their eyes were half-lidded. America stopped his advance when he felt England's quickened breath on his cheek. His fingers ghosted England's chin, and the older nation's eyes fluttered closed. America tilted his head to the side and leaned forward.

"America!"

England's eyes shot open, and he whipped his head towards the direction of the voice. America jolted forward in surprise. Their heads slammed together, and both groaned in pain as footsteps approached them.

"America, like, there you are! Prussia's totally like, going crazy with the Roman candles! Totally to the max! Germany needs your help like, stopping him and stuff!" A shot of bright light whizzed by Poland's head, and he immediately dropped onto his stomach. America and England finally noticed the shrieks of horror mingling with the boom of fireworks and - gunshots? _Dammit, Switzerland_! "Like, do something!"

America leaped up to help England frantically stomp the small fire the shot had caused on the ground. "Prussia does this _every _Fourth of July!" America said with a grimace.

"Then why do you keep inviting him?" England growled.

"I wanna make sure he sees how awesome my party his. He thinks he's more awesome than me, so I have to teach him a lesson!"

"Bloody moron! This could all be avoided if you didn't insist on making everything be excessive and stopped throwing your weight around!"

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"Uh, guys? You like, totally need to stop Prussia before a fire starts."

America ran to the front of the house, followed closely by England. Prussia was holding five Roman candles in each hand and two in his mouth while still managing to cackle madly. Sweden was sneaking up behind him with a cardboard box, and Veneziano was crying over his now-singed curly hair. Estonia shook an unconscious Latvia. It was total chaos. Someone clasped America's shoulder.

"A-America, I'll tackle him from the front, and you pin down his arms when he's on the floor! Damn, where's Hungary when you need her?" Germany gasped. Greece and Japan, the only two who seemed at ease, stood with buckets of water at the ready. America nodded and cracked his knuckles.

"Everyone, stay calm! The hero is here!"

"You're still a cocky ingrate, aren't you?" England sighed.

America looked over his shoulder with a confident smirk. "But that's why you love me!" He ran towards Prussia, bomber jacket flapping. He could tell England was probably shaking his head with a warm smile behind him. A strange feeling of liberation spurred America into a sprint. Maybe they couldn't forget the past, but at least both of them could share the weight of the memories.

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There you have it! Did you notice that the cake had a tier for each state? :D I wanted the other characters to shine a bit, but with the 'deadline,' I couldn't do much (I love them all, and would've loved to write something for each of them). u_u Tomorrow, I'll post the epilogue to make up for this abrupt ending. And, uh, sorry for the POV weirdness.. Hopefully it works, because I don't have time to change it. Sorry.


	2. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia. :(

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England was early for the G-8 meeting as usual. Early, in this case, meaning right on time, since he expected everyone else was going to be at least 20 minutes late after last night's fiasco. He sat with his feet propped up on the table and his hands locked behind his head. Overall, the party yesterday had been bearable - in truth, it had been 'awesome,' to use America's favorite word, though England would never admit that to him - and he found himself feeling better than he normally did the entire month of July. Though the first half had torn England apart inside (he had to rush into the bathroom a few times to scream at his reflection, and he had been embarrassed when Japan walked in the _one_ time he had forgotten to lock the door), the talk he had with America during the fireworks display had left him feeling lighthearted and, for some reason, giddy. Then the party went to all hell when Prussia went on his rampage. England was busy helping victims into ambulance cars and whatever available vehicles were nearby for the rest of the night. Everything taken into account, however, England would have given the party an overall B-, no, C+. He wanted to leave room for improvement.

The door clicked open. England immediately took his feet of off the table and pretended to be looking over some of the files that had been on the table before he had arrived. He stole a glance upwards and saw the back of America's head as he closed the door.

"I'm surprised you're here before everyone else. They are all late, but I expected you would be one of the last bloody HELL what in God's name happened to you?!"

England snorted and slapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting into laughter. It was America eyebrows, or rather, lack thereof. He looked totally beat, and the ends of his hair were blackened in some places, but his eyebrows were totally gone. Not a trace, not a single hair left. Prussia was probably harder to take down than America would have cared to mention.

England fell out of his chair in maniacal laughter. He shoved his face into the crook of his arm and pounded his fist on the ground, and his body convulsed uncontrollably. America marched over and lifted England by the collar.

"These are the mark of a hero, y'know," America hissed as he pointed at his forehead.

"M-mark of a hero? Th-there's n-nothing there, idiot!" Tears of severe joy streamed down England's face.

America let England drop to the floor. England bumped his head on the table on the way to the ground, but it was just _so goddamn funny_ that the pain just got mixed up in the delirium.

"At least I don't have caterpillars sitting above my eyes," America shot back weakly.

England glanced up at him, eyes curved up in deranged happiness. "O-oh God, oh God, stop that look, I-I can tell you're trying to furrow your brows and-" England hooted hysterically.

"Ve, ve, what is wrong with England?"

America didn't turn around, wondering if he'd be able to escape to the bathroom without Veneziano noticing.

"Why is Angleterre on the ground? Does he not know that is not proper to act like that at a meeting?"

"Well, England seems happy today, da?" said a cheerful voice.

As more countries came in, England's laughter grew louder and coarser. When he started coughing for air and gasping like a fish between episodes, they gathered around him with a bit of concern. America took the chance to run out of the room and into one of the restrooms. He pulled out a sharpie and stared at the mirror.

"Okay.. I'll draw them on as thin as possible, and maybe if I have my back turned to face the board most of the time, they won't even noti-"

The door opened. America saw Japan frozen with his foot halfway through the air, staring at America's reflection. America drooped.

"America-san, your.. Your eyebr-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know! Can you just- Help me draw them back on?" he growled, shoving the black sharpie towards him. Japan took the pen with an unreadable expression, but America could tell that somewhere, deep down, he was laughing it up like England. At least he had the tact to conceal it. Japan uncapped the pen and placed the tip near America's forehead.

"Are you sure that you would prefer I did this, America-san?"

"Your hands are steadier than mine. Of course I'm sure." He didn't mean to snap, but he was frustrated with the whole situation. He had saved the day yesterday, yet all people would notice were his missing eyebrows. Can't a hero get a little appreciation? Japan concentrated and started making fine strokes over his eyes. America stood as still as he could, not wanting to make something he knew would look bad look even worse.

"There. All done." America turned to the mirror. He had thick, multiple horizontal lines going across each eye. In other words, a disfigured clone of England's.

"Erm, Japan, why did you draw my eyebrows all thick like that? And so many lines.."

"You do not like them?"

"Well, they're kinda noticeable."

"I think they are cute." America stared at the Asian nation suspiciously. What was Japan trying to say?

".. You have really weird tastes. But thanks anyway. Hopefully no one else will notice my brows turned black and multiplied." America sighed and left the restroom, ready for another round of being laughed. England would probably suffocate when he saw this. Ah well. Such tragedies were common on the path of a misunderstood hero.

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Japan has a tendency of needing to use the bathroom at the most inconvenient moments. :D


End file.
